


Manly Pursuits

by jinkazama



Category: Tekken
Genre: Canon Era, Getting Back Together, Golf, Implied Relationships, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkazama/pseuds/jinkazama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after Tekken 4. Kazuya is alive again, and shows up at Lee's Bahamas compound. After being dead for twenty years, they're both having a hard time adjusting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flesh And Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegreymoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreymoon/gifts).



> Originally posted as three separate fics, I thought it made more sense as one with three chapters.

“You cook. _You_.”

“Yes.”

Kazuya didn’t say anything further but he smirked beneath his heavy brows. He sat back heavily in his seat and Lee watched him, frowning.

“I’ll cook for you.”

“Who says I’m hungry?”

“You’ll like it, I promise. I started the preparations already. It won’t take long.”

Lee went past his brother, brushing against the back of his chair – Kazuya didn’t pull his chair out of Lee’s way, instead forcing Lee to squeeze past him on his way out of the kitchen. He sighed internally, but quickly pushed his annoyance away as he retrieved the heavy plate he’d taken out of the fridge earlier bearing the thick slabs of steak, and he eyed the way the seasonings had sunk into the meat, pleased.

Back in the kitchen, Kazuya watched him suspiciously as he moved about easily, flicking switches, and opening cupboards.

He unwrapped the steaks and Kazuya’s eyes fell on them. His suspicious frown deepened.

“If this is poison, some sort of trick…”

“I wouldn’t waste steak this good on that. I’d just inject it into you when you were sleeping.”

Lee paused with the pan in his hand to throw a mischievous look over his shoulder at Kazuya.

Kazuya’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed where he was.

The steaks began to sizzle gently as they hit the pan. Lee kept his eye on them; timing was crucial, especially for steaks like these. Take them off too quick and they’d be leaking precious juice and flavour; leave them on too long and they’d lose some of their tenderness. He counted the seconds, turning each steak briskly with a practiced twist of his wrist, and when he judged the time was up, they went onto a lower heat.

The fat was melting into the meat now, filling it with flavour, and he eyed the pan hungrily. Behind him, he heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back and then Kazuya was right behind him, watching him cook.

Lee kept his attention on the pan. Kazuya’s aftershave was mingling with the delicious smell from the pan, and his body’s heat was competing with the heat from the pan. Two large, well-muscled forearms rested casually on either side of him, skin showing where the sleeves had been rolled up, but Kazuya didn’t touch him. _Not yet, anyway._

Kazuya’s breath was hot on the back of his neck as he looked over Lee’s shoulder at the steaks, now a pretty light brown with pink still around the edges. Lee counted in his head, and judged that they could do with another turn. Judging by the sound they made as they settled in the pan again, the juices had been sealed inside perfectly, and combined with the melting fat, they would be delectable.

Kazuya couldn’t deny him this thing.

The arms trapping him in moved away, and a moment later Kazuya had returned to his chair.

Finally, Lee slid a quick thumb onto the steaks, judged them almost ready, and switched the heat off. He quickly slid a sheet of foil over the top of the pan, and checked his watch.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Nearly.” Lee snapped his fingers. Just enough time to get wine and plates. He knew exactly what wine he was going to bring out too.

Squeezing past Kazuya again, he dashed to his wine cellar and returned a few moments later, carrying a bottle reverently. Blowing the dust off ostentatiously, he handed it to Kazuya with a flourish.

Kazuya read the label, eyes frowning as he raised them up to Lee’s expectant face.

“This is…”

“…from Father’s cellar, yes. I stole it the day I left. I never anticipated drinking it.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

Lee handed Kazuya a corkscrew and two fine crystal glasses. “Open it. Steak’s ready now.”

He peeled the foil off his pan and breathed in the delectable scent of melted fat and pampered beef cooked to perfection. The steaks went onto plates, and he smiled as he fetched the cutlery.

Kazuya looked at him, unimpressed, and handed him a glass of wine in exchange for a steak.

Lee sat and took up his knife and fork. Passing Kazuya a napkin, he smiled and waited expectantly.

Kazuya’s knife was sharp, with a keen edge like a scalpel. It sank into the steak easily. The meat was tender, with a pink flush around the edges that deepened to a darker blush once cut through. Already the juices were seeping onto the plate, delicate pink on porcelain like the petal of a lotus.

“Salt?”

“Already seasoned. Eat.”

Lee was cutting into his own steak now, and he took a sip of his wine before he’d allow himself to fork up a bite. His eyes were on Kazuya.

Kazuya cut off a chunk of meat and placed it in his mouth.

The taste was incredible. The fat that had melted into the flesh gave it a buttery, rich flavour that filled his mouth with the most delectable juices. The meat was succulent, with an almost sweet flavour complemented by the salt and pepper Lee had garnished it with before cooking.

He swallowed, and took a drink of his wine. The wine was deep red, blood to go with the flesh, and it was dark and subtle in flavour, a true favourite of his father’s if ever there was one.

Lee watched him, a little secret smile on his face as he blotted the corners of his mouth. His lips were a little flushed from the wine.

“How is it?”

“Fine.”

He sat back and considered his brother. Lee had been full of nervous energy from the second he’d been shown in; up and down, pacing, picking up things and putting them down again. Old habits. Now he was still, and Kazuya had the opportunity to get a proper look at him. The wine was relaxing him, he could see; his hand was loose on the glass. When he took up his knife, however, his fingers tightened unconsciously. His face was smooth and unlined; Kazuya’s eyes took it in in a single glance, seeking flaws, scars, anything, and finding nothing. Only his eyes gave anything away. As he sipped his wine, Lee eyed Kazuya darkly, intent in his gaze that Kazuya couldn’t quite decipher.

Now he was cutting into his steak again, long eyelids cast down briefly, admiring the pink inside of the meat, and Kazuya’s eyes trailed down his neck. His silver necklace gleamed against his throat, catching the light, and Kazuya’s eyes lingered on Lee’s throat as he swallowed his steak and pressed his lips to the glass again.

Kazuya took up his knife and fork again, and prepared to slice another piece off his steak.

But his hands betrayed him; eager to cut another morsel they were moving quickly. His knife and fork clicked together clumsily. In the still room, the sound was painful to him.

He didn’t bother looking up to see his brother’s smirk of triumph. His hands moved; the steak disappeared. Lee sat back, dabbed a tiny dot of meat juice from the corner of his mouth, and watched him.

“It’s Mishima, you know.”

“What?”

“Mishima beef. Only the best for you.”

There was laughter in Lee’s tone and he made no attempt to conceal the mockery in his eyes as he drank and eyed Kazuya over the rim of his glass.

Kazuya chewed, focusing on the dark wine in his glass.

His brother was right, as much as he hated to admit it even to himself. The taste, the texture, the sheer pleasure every bite brought him – he hadn’t had such a good steak since…

His face darkened. Since the night he took over the Zaibatsu.

Lee noticed his mood shift. He laid his hand down on the table, lightly tapping it to catch Kazuya’s attention.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Let’s have a toast.”

Kazuya growled. What could they possibly drink to? His anger was building inside him again. He slammed down his knife and fork on his cleared plate, and glared at Lee.

Lee looked at him. He appeared to be giving it some thought. “I never thought I’d see you again…let alone that you’d beat me in the first tournament I entered since the last one.”

Kazuya watched his face, waiting for the trap to spring. Lee refilled their glasses. Kazuya took up his with some reluctance.

“And now you’re here. And…it’s strange. Seeing you here, like this.”

Lee paused, about to say something else, then abruptly fell silent. He ran a hand through his silver hair, clearly troubled.

Kazuya didn’t realise he’d been clutching the tablecloth with his free hand until he saw it begin to ruche and bunch in front of him. He let go.

“So, let’s drink. To flesh and blood.”

Lee solemnly clinked his glass to Kazuya’s, holding his gaze for more seconds than were necessary for strict politeness.

Kazuya drank the stolen wine, and for the first time _really_ tasted it; it was rich, deep and almost chocolaty. A strange one, but it brought out the flavour of the steak all the more by way of contrast. He drank, without taking his eyes off his brother.

Lee smiled, and sipped from his own glass. Between them lay the empty plates, the stolen wine, and the bunched-up table cloth.

There had been twenty-one years between them. Twenty-one years for Lee to turn over all the old hates, fears, and hurts in his mind. Twenty-one years for him to rage, hate, mourn, and finally move on. And then he had faced Kazuya, alive and malevolent as ever, in the tournament.

He’d been in disguise then, but Kazuya had recognised him, and Lee had been completely unable to focus. He’d crashed out of the tournament, flown back to the Bahamas, washed the dye out of his hair and seethed.

Then Kazuya had shown up, and Lee let him in. So far, it was going as well as could be expected.

Kazuya sat his glass down and eyed him across the table. For a moment Lee felt the atmosphere change; he half-expected Kazuya to spring at him across the table like a big cat and bring him crashing down to the floor. Then Kazuya shifted in his seat and the mood was broken.

“What next?” he said softly.

Lee chose to ignore any implication in the question.

“Drink whiskey with me, like old times. I even stole us a bottle to start with.”

Kazuya finished his wine, poured the last of the bottle into their glasses, and took another drink before shrugging irritably at his brother.

“Fine.”

 _We’ll see_ , Lee thought, and felt the familiar excitement of dealing with his brother rise to the surface again, sparking his nerves alight.

“So, you liked my cooking?”

Kazuya gestured irritably at his empty plate. “It was steak. You know I like steak.”

Lee waited.

“Besides,” Kazuya said with a cruel smirk, “it would be hard for even a fool like you to fuck up such a superb piece of meat.”

Lee sighed. “So you think you’d be just as great a fighter if you hadn’t been trained by Heihachi?”

Kazuya froze, then stood, pushing away from the table, red eye ablaze. Lee rose too. They stared at each other. Long minutes passed.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Lee said quietly, eyes still on his brother. “Give him that at least.”

Kazuya sat back down suddenly, and reached for his glass. Lee did the same.

He was contemplating what to do next over a mouthful of wine when Kazuya broke into his thoughts.

“It wasn’t awful.”

Lee practically purred like a cat. He knew Kazuya well enough to understand this constituted great praise from him. He also knew the value of judging Kazuya by his reactions; there had been many times at restaurants when he’d reduced the whole staff to tears, sending back dish after dish. Lee had sat by silently as the managers had grovelled, fear plain in their eyes, as they tried to appease his brother.

He remembered when they’d been in New York on business the week before Nobu opened; they’d been specially invited by the owner for dinner, just the two of them. As Kazuya had eaten what would soon become known as the restaurant’s signature dish, the famous blackened cod, the chef had watched anxiously.

Kazuya had finished his meal in silence, nodded his thanks, and left.

Lee was effusive in his praise, but he could sense the man’s disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he promised, “it was great. He loved it, I could tell.”

The worst of it was that he was being sincere; however Kazuya’s subtleties were lost on most people. No, he didn’t _need_ to hear Kazuya saying what he already knew from seeing the haste with which he cut up his steak, the slight scrape of steel against porcelain when he’d been too impatient for grace, the way his mouth moved as he chewed, appreciating every bite. He knew from the expression Kazuya had from his first mouthful.

It was always too much fun to poke Kazuya though. Nothing could change that.

Lee picked up his glass again, and turned to Kazuya, serious now.

“You were dead, and now you’re back. I don’t know. It’s a lot. But you’re here, and I’ve let you in. So let’s drink to that, and whatever that means, because I have no fucking idea.”

Kazuya regarded him in silence, and then he nodded. Slowly, he raised his own glass, and clinked it briefly against Lee’s.

They drank deeply this time, barely tasting the exquisite drink, but it seemed more _right_ that way.

Lee sat back in his chair, draped his arm over the back. He looked directly at Kazuya. Kazuya looked directly at him.

There it was again, something between them. Hate, yes, but there was also sadness, anger, and something else.

Kazuya wouldn’t have come for nothing. Lee wouldn’t have let him in for nothing.

Lee supposed that they would be digging up a lot of old feelings before Kazuya’s stay was over.

He couldn’t wait.

Eyeing his brother, he raised his glass again, a silent toast this time. Kazuya mirrored his gesture. They drank, watching each other’s faces.

He didn’t know if they could get past all the awfulness of the past. There was too much bad blood for it ever to be really _right_. Too much lay between them.

However, Lee thought, he’d mourned Kazuya, _truly_ mourned him, and the alcohol was forcing him to confront the emotions he’d felt when his brother stepped out into the arena, when his brother was escorted into his home.

Fear. Relief. Anger. And yes, there was longing, so deeply buried underneath decades of therapy, hedonism and conscious effort that he’d almost forgotten it was there. He’d put away his photos of Kazuya, put the possessions of his he’d saved in storage. He couldn’t bear to destroy them.

He smiled to himself, wondering if this Kazuya still liked his precious red sneakers, picturing the expression on that stern face when Lee retrieved them for him.

Kazuya took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, offered it to Lee.

Lee took it, and watched as Kazuya lit his own, drawing on it deeply the way he always had, and he felt old familiar feelings rise up.

He finished his wine, and stood.

“Come on, we have whiskey to drink.”

Kazuya looked at him, arched a thick brow.

“You’ll approve. Father’s best bottle…the one he was saving for retirement. Just picture his face if he could see us drinking it.”

He turned and led the way out, and Kazuya laughed quietly as he followed. Some things really never changed between them, and he couldn't wait to see if other things had survived his absence as well.


	2. Foreplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazuya is alive again, and shows up at Lee's Bahamas compound. After being dead for twenty years, they're both having a hard time adjusting. They decide to settle their differences over a game of golf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came about after a conversation with thegreymoon about Lee's golf hobby and what Kazuya would think of it. I'd apologise for writing this, but I can't even pretend to be sorry because it was a lot of fun to write. I tried to stay away from terrible golf puns, but I'm only human.

Kazuya Mishima stared out at the lush splendour of the golf course and frowned.  
  
After defeating his brother at the fourth tournament, he’d tracked him back to the Bahamas. Lee had agreed to let him in, mostly out of curiosity, and they’d spent the evening prowling around each other suspiciously. Kazuya had been dead twenty years, and Lee had accepted that and moved on. It was quite a shock for Kazuya to see how well Lee was doing for himself outside the Zaibatsu.  
  
That insolent fool had built quite a business for himself.  
  
Sure, Lee’s fighting robots were laughably simplistic and riddled with bugs after being rushed to manufacturing too quickly. In time, however, they might come to challenge G Corporation’s own Jack series…if Lee knuckled down and took the task seriously. He had always been brilliant, but lazy, and that didn’t appear to have changed much.  
  
When they’d met at the tournament, Lee had been in disguise as Violet, a mysterious eccentric industrialist with bright purple hair and clothes, who always wore sunglasses and spoke English. Kazuya had realised exactly who he was the first time he watched him fight. It was Lee, albeit a much improved Lee; stronger, faster and fiercer.  
  
None of these attributes could make up for the shock he’d received after meeting his brother in the tournament. He’d lost his focus, and Kazuya had beaten him easily, enjoying the look on that pretty face as he’d snapped the sunglasses with a well-timed uppercut. He’d left him sprawled there on the ground, purple hair dripping blood into those eyes, without a word.  
  
Of course, he hadn’t been finished with Lee. He’d ordered his team at G Corporation to get everything they could find on his life, and, a couple of weeks after the tournament had ended, he went to Lee's home himself.  
  
He had frightened Lee at first, he knew. The red eye, the extra scars and the innate wrongness of his resurrection had that effect. Yet that first evening, as Lee turned to hand him a glass of whiskey, he’d caught Kazuya’s eye and murmured “You really don’t change much, do you Kazuya?”  
  
Granted, Kazuya _had_ just finished a lengthy rant on the subject of Heihachi at the time. Yet Lee had always been able to look right through to the core of him. During his worst and most vulnerable moments, Lee had been there, and he had understood. Despite their rivalry, Lee was the one who understood and accepted him, in all his wrongness, and that was worth more to Kazuya than he could ever admit.  
  
Alcohol had bridged some of the distance, and, after a few drinks, Kazuya’s inhibitions. He’d kissed Lee, curling his hands into the silver hair possessively. Lee had frozen at first, caught off guard, then had gradually relaxed into it, but it was still unfamiliar. It wasn’t like the old days. Lee felt the same, he smelled the same, he even _looked_ much the same – but the distance hung between them, with none of the easy intimacy of the past. Even when they’d been at the Zaibatsu, hating each other and the world, the gap hadn’t existed between them.  
  
Kazuya had pulled back. Lee protested.  
  
“You have to understand – it’s been a lot to deal with.”  
  
“I was dead,” Kazuya said simply. “I was _dead_ for twenty years, and you think it’s hard for you?”  
  
Lee flushed. “That’s not what I said.”  
  
Kazuya stood up. “It was a bad idea for me to come. You’re still as stupid as you always were. You have no idea.”  
  
“Wait!”  
  
Lee’s fingers held his arm. He stared at Kazuya, eyes taking in the red eye, the scars, the frown.  
  
“I need some time.”  
  
“I’m going.”  
  
“Kazzy,” his voice dropped slightly, using the old nickname from childhood, “I missed you.”  
  
Kazuya had never been able to resist that tone.  
  
So he had stayed. Lee had decided that they needed to spend time together, get used to the whole “being alive” thing. Attempt to re-establish a normalcy that had never really existed for them.  
  
Hence, golf.  
  
Kazuya had never cared for golf. He was a fighter, and nothing in the world felt better than forcing an opponent to submit to your iron will, to see the defeated look in their eyes as you made them completely helpless. What was golf, except a toy game for bored businessmen? He had never been a patient man, and the thought of spending four hours walking around slowly with Lee whacking nonhuman things slowly and precisely was unacceptable.  
  
All this paled in comparison to the clothes, however. Naturally, Kazuya didn’t have any golf clothes with him, so Lee had insisted on lending him some. They’d always been the same shoe size, so that was no problem, but the clothes were quite another. Lee had gained significant muscle, but his clothes were still slightly tight on Kazuya. That was far from the worst part, though.  
  
Kazuya stared back at his reflection, completely and utterly lost for words. Lee knocked, and entered the room. He looked Kazuya up and down and his smile widened, admiring his handiwork.  
  
Kazuya was wearing a dark purple polo shirt, which stretched tightly over his arms and broad shoulders. The trousers Lee had found for him were a matching pair of dark purple check golf trousers, made for Lee personally. They clung to his hips and muscular arse tightly, and Kazuya felt incredibly exposed. Used to wearing gi pants or his own tailored suits, he was completely uncomfortable and told Lee so.  
  
“Couldn’t I just wear my own clothes? These are too tight.”  
  
“No!” Lee snapped. “My course has a very strict dress code, which must be adhered to at all times.”  
  
Lee was wearing a dark blue polo shirt with the collar up and a pair of looser beige shorts. He had propped a pair of sunglasses on his head, holding back the silver hair, while he examined Kazuya.  
  
“Fuck this,” Kazuya declared, and made to pull his own polo shirt off.  
  
Lee’s hands caught his wrists and held them.  
  
“You’re missing the point here, brother.”  
  
“That even twenty years later, you still dress like shit?”  
  
Lee smiled. “No.” He dropped Kazuya’s wrists and closed the distance between them.  
  
“That you’ll easily win this golf match, because I’ll be far too distracted by you in those to concentrate on my game.”  
  
His hands slipped down, fondled Kazuya’s arse roughly. Lee said nothing, and watched his face.  
  
“Are we playing?”  
  
“Yes,” Kazuya spat. His brother still understood his weakness too well, and was still merciless when it came to using it against him.  
  
Now he was waiting on Lee to emerge from the clubhouse with his caddy. Lee had plenty of staff, but Kazuya didn’t see why they needed one of them there to haul around their clubs.  
  
The door opened, and Lee strode out to the first tee, followed by a Combot model. The Combot was wearing a clear visor, as it obediently carried Lee’s clubs under its arm.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind…I felt Combot would be a more _appropriate_ chaperone,” Lee smirked. Kazuya rolled his eyes. He would not be provoked by Lee today, no matter how great the temptation. Combot picked up Kazuya’s clubs and toddled forward, eyes flashing.  
  
Lee lowered his silver-framed sunglasses and rummaged in the front compartment of his bag for golf balls. He rubbed them back and forth on his shorts briefly, and tossed Kazuya one. Kazuya caught it, and turned it over in his hand, frowning down at it. It had a purple unicorn on it.  
  
“First hole is three strokes, usually doable in two.” The fairway stretched out in front of them, and the little red flag at the hole was clearly visible.  
  
Kazuya sighed.  
  
“Have you ever even played golf, Kazuya?”  
  
“A couple of times…but not since I was running the Zaibatsu.”  
  
“Well then, you’ll need a bit of practice with your stance then.”  
  
“Do we really have to do this?”  
  
“Yes,” Lee insisted. “Come on, you might even enjoy it!” He reached into Kazuya’s golf bag, which Combot patiently held aloft, and withdrew a driver. Kazuya took it grudgingly. Lee bent down to place a ball on the tee, and Kazuya briefly admired the view the shorts afforded him. Straightening up, Lee walked over to him.  
  
“Stance is so important when you’re teeing off,” he said. He moved directly behind Kazuya. Slipping his arms around him, he gripped the driver, and gently moved Kazuya’s hands, until they were repositioned correctly on the driver. Lee slid his hands up the backs of Kazuya’s arms and held them there briefly, whispering, “You need to move your feet about this width apart.”  
  
Lee moved away and surveyed his work.  
  
“Hmmm, you still look a bit uncomfortable but it’ll have to do, I suppose.”  
  
He moved behind Kazuya again.  
  
“Finally, you need to bend over right at this angle,” his hands pushed Kazuya’s back down gently, forcing his arse to rub into Lee’s crotch, “and take it from there.”  
  
He pushed briefly against Kazuya, and moved away to his own tee.  
  
“Watch this,” he said, and struck a sweet shot straight through the air onto the green.  
  
Kazuya wasn’t paying attention. He could only think that he had been wrong when he thought the trousers couldn’t get any tighter.  
  
Lee turned back with a bright smile on his face. He pushed his sunglasses up, and took in Kazuya. His delight was positively evil.  
  
“Now, let’s see if you can beat that!”  
  
Kazuya swung, and his ball veered off to the left, into a bunker.  
  
“Oh dear,” Lee laughed. “Looks like you’ll have to go and find it.”  
  
Kazuya briefly fantasised about transforming into Devil and burning the smile right off that pretty face, but that would only spoil his own fun. Instead, he grumbled and strode off for the bunker, keenly aware of Lee’s eyes burning a hole in the tight checked fabric.  
  
Fifteen holes later, Lee was only winning by two shots. Admittedly this had much to do with his insistence on showing Kazuya how to use all the clubs, and how to play a particular shot. He was nothing if not generous.  
  
“Do you do this with all the businessmen you bring here?” Kazuya had panted, after Lee had demonstrated the correct way to escape the rough on the tenth hole with rather more grinding than seemed necessary.  
  
“Only the attractive ones.”  
  
Combot trudged dutifully behind them, obediently responding to Lee’s every command.  
  
Kazuya’s competitive spirit had emerged fully, and now he narrowed his eyes and looked for the flag on the green. Striking the ball, it sailed high and straight, and dropped onto the green three inches from the flag.  
  
Lee whistled. His own shot was good, but it landed half a foot away from the flag. Kazuya made no effort to hide the smirk on his face.  
  
Lee drew his eyebrows together in a frown. “Don’t get any ideas here. You have no chance of winning.”  
  
They walked to the green, and Kazuya took his place by his ball. Sliding a putter out of his bag, he bent his back and eyed the short distance to the hole. Lee lifted the flag from the hole and held it there. It was imperative that he put Kazuya off. Lee cast a burning, intense stare at his brother. A little eyefucking could usually put even the most stoic golfer off their game.  
  
Kazuya didn’t look up, and tapped the ball easily into the hole.  
  
“Fuck,” Lee cursed under his breath. He took his own shot, and missed. His second shot was better, but the ball skittered over the rim of the hole before eventually dropping in.  
  
“You seem rattled,” Kazuya said from right behind him. Lee gasped as Kazuya brushed his earlobe with his lips briefly, before clapping him on the back soundly.  
  
“Two holes left and one shot in it – are you still certain of victory?”  
  
“Yes!” Lee gritted out, fully annoyed, and trying to block out the feelings Kazuya’s touch had aroused in him. They moved on to the seventeenth hole, where Kazuya closed the gap between them with a superb chip from the edge of the green.  
  
They approached the last hole and stared at it from the tee. Kazuya by now had forgotten all about the tightness of the trousers, which were now clinging to him even more after three hours in 90% humidity. Lee, however, couldn’t. He cursed himself for playing with Kazuya too much. It was as though he’d forgotten. He _had_ forgotten, hadn’t he? He’d been so used to toying with wealthy executives, cruelly tossing them aside after they’d taken his cock and signed his contracts, he’d forgotten what a real challenge was like.  
  
He’d missed it.  
  
“Let’s make this interesting,” he announced. Kazuya looked at him with an expression of mild interest.  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“You win, you get to fuck me. I win, I fuck you.”  
  
Kazuya smirked darkly. Some things really hadn’t changed. He was glad of it.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Lee regarded him silently from behind his sunglasses for a moment, and stepped up to the tee. His drive was perfect, soaring and dropping right onto the green, five inches from the flag. Behind him, Kazuya cursed. His own shot, however, was superb, and landed just beside Lee’s, dislodging it and knocking it further away from the flag.  
  
Lee’s triumphant smile froze on his face. _Fuck_!  
  
Kazuya laughed darkly, sweeping past him on his way to the green.  
  
They stood there, measuring the shots, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Finally, Lee took his putter in hand. Kazuya took the flag from the hole, and crouched down beside it, eyes on Lee’s shot. Lee paused, repositioned himself, swung and missed. Kazuya didn’t say anything but his eyes were triumphant. In a flash, Lee remembered that look and it made him shiver with anticipation. All of a sudden, he no longer cared about the game.  
  
Kazuya’s concentration was shaky, but he was determined to win now. Lowering his dark head, he focused on the ball and keeping his hands steady for the shot. Lee hovered on the edge of his vision, silvery and distracting. There would be time for that later. He repositioned his grip, and gently tapped the ball with his putter.  
  
The ball rolled over the hole and settled less than a centimetre from it.  
  
He looked up and met Lee’s eyes. Before Lee could move, Kazuya had kicked his ball into the hole. He scooped up Lee’s own ball and flung it into the trees. Combot went clanking after it.  
  
“I win,” Kazuya declared, and his look was so unashamedly carnal that Lee’s protest died in his throat.  
  
“So,” Kazuya continued casually, “do you have any lube in that bag?”  
  
Lee smirked. “You know me too well, I’m afraid, but I’d rather you collected your winnings at the house.”  
  
“Don’t feel like waiting,” Kazuya breathed, moving closer to him.  
  
“You might if you saw the nice collection of restraints I have, which I’m sure you could put to good use.”  
  
He paused, and continued with an innocent tone.  
  
“You still like that, don’t you, tying people up and making them beg for your cock?”  
  
Kazuya’s gaze burned. On this occasion, he supposed, he could wait for a few more minutes.  
  
Lee smiled, and they set off for the house.


	3. Fluid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazuya claims his prize.

In the end, Kazuya never went through with Lee’s promise.

Lee dismissed his staff from the top floor and dryly summoned Kazuya to follow him for a drink.  
Kazuya managed to convincingly maintain his usual expression of cold fury as Lee loudly complained about their game and how terrible Kazuya was to play with.

“I can't believe you cheated and threw my ball away! You always lacked elegance, Kazuya.”

Lee’s bedroom surprised him. Nothing like his room in the Mishima Compound, always covered in bits of his projects or items of clothing. It was sparse, almost to the point of austerity, but Kazuya’s senses detected the vast amount of technology humming behind concealed panels, doors and walls. It was nothing less than a fortress. There was a huge window, and a couple of paintings that Kazuya recognised, but most of this room was hidden beneath concealed panels and locked doors.

Lee shut the door behind him, and dropped back to a normal tone.

“It’s soundproofed.”

Kazuya was on him in an instant.

Lee’s hands roved eagerly over him, pulling off the sweat-drenched polo shirt, yanking down the hideously tight trousers. Kazuya had time for no such niceties. Lee’s dark blue polo shirt hung in two halves across his chest.

“That was custom-made, Kazuya,” Lee said mildly, but his dark eyes gleamed.

He’d always been able to handle Kazuya’s roughness. And Kazuya had always enjoyed Lee’s own cruelty.

This time, when they kissed, there was no awkwardness. Kazuya seized Lee, holding him overly close, and Lee responded in kind, pressing rough fingertips into his back, touching the hard lines of muscle. His fingers trailed over Kazuya’s skin, tracing the new scars, moving over every inch of him.

Kazuya slid a hand through Lee’s silky hair. He’d grown it longer, but it still felt the same as it always had, and he still enjoyed the way Lee reacted when his hand tightened as he pulled at it. A sharp inhalation of breath, but no attempt to resist or pull away.

He broke the kiss to yank off Lee’s ruined shirt. Lee had gained muscle and weight in the past two decades, yet his body was still recognisably his, and Kazuya felt himself grow harder as he watched Lee breathing hard, naked and exposed and dripping with sweat.

Lee spoke. “Shower.”

Before Kazuya could reach out, slam him back against the door, he was past him, and beckoning  
Kazuya forward with a smirk on his face. He disappeared, and Kazuya heard the sound of water  
running.

Kazuya would have fucked him as he was, until they were both sweaty and sticky and panting, but he remembered Lee’s little games well.

His bathroom was done in black granite, with the exception of a giant floor-to-ceiling mirror that covered the end wall; it had been treated so it didn’t steam up from the several showerheads spraying hot water across the huge shower area. The floor was slick beneath Kazuya’s feet as he paused to watch Lee.

Lee was soaping up his body and lathering his hair, and watching Kazuya, still with that same smirk on his face. But he had nowhere to escape to now.

“Come here” Kazuya growled, and slammed his brother back against the slick black wall of the shower. Hot water sprayed down on him, dousing him, but he only had eyes for Lee, who struggled weakly against him, slippery and evasive.

His hair was wet, and all the lather was streaming off his skin. Kazuya kept a firm grip on his wrists so he couldn’t slither away.

Lee had known, had known since the moment Kazuya walked in and set eyes on him, where this  
would end, yet he couldn’t shake the nervous feeling that rose up in him.

Kazuya had changed in many ways, but in others, he was just the same as he had been twenty-one  
years ago.

If anything, Lee had changed too. And Kazuya gripping his wrists in that tight, possessive manner was so achingly familiar, exactly the same as he had twenty-one years ago, on their last time together.

But he’d lived a second life by the time Kazuya came back, had lived almost twice as long without Kazuya as he had with him, in fact, and he was not living in his brother’s shadow anymore. Kazuya wasn’t going to have it all his own way.

But Lee had missed his casual dominance, the thrill of Kazuya’s possessiveness all the same.

And Kazuya had won their bet, after all.

So he leaned forward and kissed Kazuya, to suffocate the dull ache in his chest that had appeared from nowhere, as the water streamed down on them.

Kazuya gradually loosened his grip on Lee’s wrists, satisfied he wasn’t going to escape. Lee slid his hands down Kazuya’s thickly muscled arms, tracing the new scars with his eyes closed. Kazuya didn’t break the kiss, but he shoved a thick thigh between Lee’s legs and edged it upwards.

Lee gripped Kazuya’s muscular shoulders as Kazuya broke the kiss and hoisted him up so Lee could wrap his legs around Kazuya’s torso. Kazuya stared at him, red eye gleaming in the dim light, and Lee shivered.

He couldn’t resist casting a sideways glance at his mirror.

Money well spent.

Kazuya saw where his eyes went, and caught his chin with his hand roughly.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Lee met his gaze, as Kazuya slid two thick fingers into his mouth, and he obediently sucked them as Kazuya drew in his breath. Kazuya’s cock was pressing against him, and he knew Kazuya wouldn’t be taking his time.

But he could take it, he realised, and that was why they had always persisted together. Through all the hate, the rivalry, their father’s little games, they had always known that there was one other person who understood.

Lee ground himself against Kazuya, drawing a hiss of breath from him as Kazuya withdrew his fingers and slid them both into Lee.

Lee nearly cried out, and then Kazuya’s other hand was stroking his cheek, almost tenderly, as his bulk pressed Lee hard against the slick wall.

Kazuya’s fingertips were calloused and rough, yet his strokes were precise and almost teasing, as he watched Lee’s face.

He wanted this, though, had wanted it from the moment Kazuya walked in. He’d fucked a lot of people in his life, men and women both, and he’d never found anyone he was as comfortable conceding dominance to as Kazuya. With everyone else, he was the dominant one, and he liked it that way, but with Kazuya, he found the thrill of allowing himself to be vulnerable, to possessed, exceeded almost everything else.

The one exception was getting Kazuya to lie under him, to make Kazuya moan for him, and he  
planned on getting his own way as soon as possible.

In the meantime, he just wanted Kazuya’s cock inside him, Kazuya’s hot tongue in his mouth, on his neck, in his ear, those fearful eyes on his. He wanted to be crushed against his own wall by Kazuya’s body, to be fucked until he was raw and aching, until he forgot his own name.

He pushed down against Kazuya’s fingers. Kazuya’s mouth twisted in a smirk.

Kazuya withdrew them from him and slid right in. He moaned.

It felt exactly the same twenty-one years later. He pushed Lee harder against the wall, giving him a second to curl his legs tighter around Kazuya.

“I hope you’re ready for this.”

Lee smiled at him through the water.

Kazuya thrust into him, slow at first as he tested the traction of his feet on the slippery floor, then faster and harder as Lee stayed stuck between him and the wall, as Lee moved against him, bringing all the old memories back.

Lee found it hard to focus as Kazuya fucked him brutally. The joke he’d wanted to make about being glad G Corporation had managed to replicate Kazuya’s body in such precise detail was lost in the deluge as Kazuya moved inside him with terrifying familiarity.

The slick black granite rubbed against his back and he knew he’d be sore and raw tomorrow, but he didn’t care.

All he wanted was to feel Kazuya coming inside him, to see that cold face contorted in ecstasy, hear those cruel lips screaming his name.

Neither of them could last long after all the buildup and tension. Kazuya came, growling his name into Lee’s neck. Lee was not long in following, arching and sighing as Kazuya held him tightly in place.

They were silent for a few minutes, as the water washed away the evidence. Finally, Kazuya lowered Lee to his feet and Lee turned off the water.

 

***

 

“Tell me about how he died.”

Kazuya had been expecting it. It had hung over them the whole visit; Lee had avoided bringing it up when they were drinking their father’s wine, but it was inevitable.

“Jin beat us both up and left. We were ambushed by Jacks, both of us, and there were dozens of them. We fought them for a few moments, then I threw him to them and left.”

“And then?”

Lee’s eyes had a hard gleam to them.

“And then the temple exploded.”

Lee sipped at his whiskey.

“So he’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“And it was the Jacks…best billion I ever spent.”

Kazuya looked at him sharply.

“I had nothing to do with this, do you think I’d let you in if I’d tried to kill you and failed?”

Kazuya grunted, and glared at him.

“All the same, I wonder who was responsible.”

“I’ve been thinking about that same thing myself.”

Lee exhaled. He knew a good number of high-level executives at G Corporation who could have ordered it, and he even understood them a little; an abomination like Kazuya hanging around the place was bound to frighten normal people. That was all they were; ordinary people with tiny lives.

They shouldn’t have resurrected him if they weren’t prepared for the consequences.

He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in a crystal ashtray.

“I can help you find out who did it.”

Kazuya looked at him suspiciously. “How?”

“Same way I found out about Heihachi attacking the place – I can hack into their systems.”

Kazuya narrowed his eyes. “Can you do that? How long will it take?”

Lee laughed. “As long as they continue to spend more on investors’ lunches than information security, I can. And I should be able to tell you within a few days. Maybe longer if they have higher security for top-level people, which seems likely.”

Kazuya’s red eye glowed brightly, and Lee had a moment to feel some unease.

Only a moment. The life he’d lived, the things he’d done – now wasn’t the time to develop a conscience.

“What’s in it for you?”

Kazuya knew him well.

“He’s gone. That’s reason enough.”

He finished his whiskey and stared at Kazuya.

Kazuya dragged the last life out of his cigarette before stubbing it out and moved across the bed to him.

“You were always at your best under me.”

Lee dodged his grasp and turned quickly to catch Kazuya’s arms. Kazuya didn’t resist; he allowed Lee to push both of his arms down, smirking all the while.

“I won, remember?”

“And you claimed it already. My turn now.”

Kazuya laughed, and made as if to move, but Lee flipped him over quickly, and slid onto his back. He wrenched Kazuya’s wrists back behind him.

Kazuya looked over his shoulder. He still looked amused, but Lee recognised the look in his eye. Kazuya didn’t like being fucked with.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing you won’t like,” Lee said, binding Kazuya’s wrists with a leather tie. Kazuya grunted, and struggled, but he wasn’t putting too much effort into it, and Lee could see he was hard already.

He kissed his way down Kazuya’s back, spending several minutes on Kazuya’s lower back right at his hips, where Kazuya had always been sensitive. Kazuya groaned, and Lee felt his hips twist impatiently as Kazuya tried to rub himself against the bed, with little success.

“Get the fuck on with it, Lee!”

Lee parted his cheeks, and slid his tongue in.

Kazuya froze, then he exhaled. But he didn’t resist.

Lee slid in a couple of his long fingers to join his tongue, and he soon had Kazuya wriggling and gasping underneath him.

As he worked, Lee couldn’t prevent smiling in triumph.

Kazuya was back in his life, and however that played out remained to be seen. He knew better than to underestimate him, and he knew Kazuya felt the same way.

In the meantime, as long as Kazuya was there, he had no objection to playing some of their old games together – and he intended on showing Kazuya that he had changed in his absence. He wasn’t the wary, anxious man he’d been in his twenties, and he looked forward to seeing how Kazuya dealt with that. The G Corporation division who’d sent the Jacks wouldn’t live long after he identified them, and he idly wondered how he could dig his claws deeper into the company. It would be best to wait for the inevitable price crash after Kazuya took the division out.

He pulled his fingers out, and quickly prepared himself. As he slid into Kazuya, he shook his silver hair off his face and turned his mind to more pleasant matters.

He settled his hands on Kazuya’s muscular waist, enjoying the muffled moans beneath him. A sharp roll of his hips had him gasping too, and he lost himself in the feeling as he pulled out and thrust back in.

Yes, Kazuya’s visit had turned out to be thoroughly excellent.


End file.
